


Take Me to the Space Hospital

by isabeau25



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, platonicvldweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 15:53:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12656658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isabeau25/pseuds/isabeau25
Summary: Sven has been shot. Again. His team is not pleased with him.





	Take Me to the Space Hospital

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Platonic VLD Week, day 7 prompt: alternate reality. 
> 
> Just a note on height, the animation in the original show, Golion, (and of course, the American dub as well) was really inconstant, but most of the time, Lance was the shortest next to Pidge, who was about 12. Keith was actually relatively tall, although Sven and Hunk were both taller then him.

Keith’s eye twitched. It was obviously going to be one of those days.

“What’s wrong?” Fala looked up from her station.

“Sven got shot. Again,” Keith rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Is he okay?” Fala asked in alarm.

“Here’s Slav’s message,” Keith flicked it off his screen, sending it to hers.

“ _Mission successfully. Sven shot. At space hospital,_ ” Fala read, “ _Don’t worry. This is the reality where everything works out_.”

“Keep going,” Keith said dryly.

Fala raised an eyebrow at him and read the rest of the message, “ _67.2% chance of Sven getting punched by Lance. 73.9% chance of Sven getting punched by Pidge._ ”

“I should let them,” Keith grumbled, “he deserves it. I told him not to get shot again.”

Fala giggled. Keith glared at her, and she stopped, but continued to grin.

“Should I let the rest of the team know?” she asked.

“Don’t tell Lance and Pidge until they get back from their mission this afternoon. It will just distract them,” Keith ran a hand through his hair, “but go head and let Hunk know.”

“Yes, chief,” Fala smiled.

“I’m going to go check on Sven,” Keith pushed away from his station, “the control room is yours. Give me a little warning before Lance storms in, would you?”

“You don’t want it to be a surprise?” Fala said with mock innocence.

“I hate surprises,” Keith grumbled as he walked to the door.

Fala giggled again and got back to work.

* * *

“How are you feeling?” Keith was glad Sven was okay, he really was, but he was still having trouble not smacking him.

“Oky-doky,” Sven grinned up at him, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“That’s good,” Keith nodded “I’m going to let Lance punch you when he gets here.”

Sven just smiled and gave him a thumbs up. Slav, typing away on a portable data station in the corner of the room, looked distinctly amused.

“I told you not to get shot again,” Keith groused.

“Keith, you don’t understand,” Sven tugged on his sleeve, “there was a baby Lance.”

“How high is he?” Keith glanced over at Slav.

“There is a 78.3% chance that he is incoherent,” Slav didn’t look up from his work, “but we did find ourselves crossing paths with a transreality anomaly that resulted in an encounter with alternate versions of your team from a reality based on the odd derivative of a squared prime.”

He paused in his typing and cocked his head to the side thoughtful, “actually, that’s rather a pleasant calculation. There’s an 83.7% chance things will end well in that reality.”

“Keith, you were so tiny and angry,” Sven practically cooed.

“Well, I’m one of those things,” Keith gave a long suffering sigh.

“Where’s Sven?” Hunk pushed open the door with more force then necessary and Keith flinched.

It wouldn’t be the first time they got thrown out of the space hospital, but it would be nice if they could avoid it at least until Lance and Pidge started punching.

“Hunk!” Sven smiled brightly at him, “there was a baby you, too.”

“What?” Hunk froze at the foot of the bed.

“He was nervous, but good boy,” Sven seemed pleased with this.

“Did he hit his head?” Hunk looked to Keith for an explanation.

“No,” Keith sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, “he’s just really high.”

“But we did see versions of you from an alternate reality,” Slav put in.

Hunk looked between Keith and Slav, then decided to roll with it, “how did you get shot this time?”

“There was a baby Lance,” Sven practically cooed, “I couldn’t let him get hurt.”

“A baby Lance?” Hunk blinked, then looked over at Slav, “please tell me you have pictures.”

“Well, yes,” Slav waved a tablet in the air with one hand, continuing to type with another three, “downloaded from our suits. Technically, they weren’t infants though. More like adolescences, I’d say.”

“Babies,” Sven cooed happily, “all safe and sound.”

“Well…” Slav started, then froze when he saw the glare Keith was giving him, “it’s more probable that they’re alive then the alternative, by about…”

“Whoa,” Hunk cut him off, snatching the pad from his hands, “was Lance really that much of a string bean?”

Keith leaned forward so he could see, then grinned, “oh yeah. Like that, except short.”

“Keith! Keith!” Sven tugged on his sleeve.

“Yes Sven?” Keith said patiently.

“They had giant flying kitty cat warships,” Sven used his fingers to make cat ears for himself, “can we have kitty cat warships?”

Hunk snapped a picture with the tablet before he could put his hands down. Keith made a mental note to make sure Pidge ‘accidently’ sent it out to all the Guns.

“I do like the look of their armor,” Hunk settled on the bed beside Keith, angling the tablet so he could see.

“It was quite impressive,” Slav agreed, “we may be able to incorporate some of the elements from it into our own suits, but I’m afraid Sven’s ‘kitty cat warships’ will be beyond us. Their fundamental composition is from the comet that was pulled into the other reality.”

“Too bad,” Hunk muttered, “those things look cool.”

“What about those weapons they’re using?” Keith pointed, “I like the look of those.”

Sven tugged on Keith’s sleeve until he passed the tablet to him so he could see, and his eyes lit up.

“Baby Keith,” he cooed, “tiny and angry.”

Keith snatched back the tablet, ignoring Hunk, who doubled over laughing.

“They were quite impressive weapons,” Slav said, clearly amused by them, “but unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get a detailed enough scan of them to do us much good.”

“That’s alright,” Keith waved his hand dismissively, “you both got back safe, and the Alteans didn’t get the comet. That’s more than enough.”

“Ohhh,” Hunk held the tablet up so Slav could see the picture of the younger version of himself holding a very large gun, “can I have one of these?”

Slav eyed the pictures for a moment, than shrugged, “possible.”

“I swear, if you blow anything else up on our base, I’ll send you to the space hospital,” Keith glared at him.

“That was Pidge’s fault,” Hunk protested.

“Pidge was tall,” Sven interjected, “tall-ish? Not as short as Shorty.”

“So there’s a reality where you’re a midget, Lance is a string bean, and Pidge is a slightly taller midget than usual,” Hunk summed up.

“And Hunk is good boy,” Sven proclaimed happily.

“Well, that seems far-fetched,” Keith snorted.

“I’m a gift,” Hunk said in mock offense.

“A gag gift maybe,” Keith rolled his eyes.

Before Hunk could respond, the door slammed open and Lance stalked in.

“Where did he get shot?” Lance demanded.

“Right upper chest,” Keith ducked his head over the tablet, trying to hide his smirk, although Sven was too high to notice.

Lance marched up to Sven and punched him in the left arm.

“Ow!” Sven protested, scooting away from him.

“I told you not to get hurt again,” Lance glared.

“The other you was nicer,” Sven sulked.

“Did he hit his head too?” Lance asked.

“No,” Hunk held the tablet up, “they had adventures in transrealities. You were a scrawny kid.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed at the picture, “I can punch you too.”

“Please don’t start brawling in the hospital room, again,” Keith said dryly, “plus you were a scrawny kid.”

“At least I wasn’t an angry little emo,” Lance grumbled.

“Still taller then you,” Keith shrugged, “even back then.”

Lance took a breath to retort, but the door slammed open for a third time, cutting him off. Pidge stomped into the room, looking ready to maim someone.

“What did you do this time?” he demanded.

“Pidge look!” Hunk waved the tablet in front of his face.

“Is that Lance?” Pidge snatched the tablet from him.

“A version of Lance, in any case,” Slav looked up from his screens, “the comet created a rip between our reality and another, which contained versions of yourselves, only younger.”

“Baby Lance,” Sven cooed again.

Pidge narrowed his eyes at him and hopped up to sit on the hospital bed next to Hunk. He hit Sven in the leg then started scrolling through the pictures on the tablet.

“Ow!” Sven kicked back at him petulantly, “why does everyone keep hitting me?”

“Because you got shot again, and we told you not to,” Keith gave him an unsympathetic look.

“But I had to,” Sven insisted grumpily, “there was a baby Lance.”

Lance turned to look at him, lips pressing into a thin line and brow furrowing. Keith would have to remind Sven to apologize once he wasn’t so high, never mind that any of them would have done the same thing.

“Did you see the ships?” Keith flicked Lance’s shoulder with the back of his hand to get his attention.

“What ships?” Lance leaned over Pidge’s shoulder.

“Giant flying kitty cat warships,” Sven supplied helpfully.

“What?” Lance wrinkled his nose at him.

“There,” Pidge zoomed in on what appeared to be a very large green robot cat.

“Those are weird,” Lance frowned at the slightly distorted image.

“Yeah, but look at how they move,” Hunk scrolled through the shots to a video that had clearly been taken through the screen of a vent.

The green cat robot… thing, circled the comet gracefully, momentarily perching on it, before pushing back to take a shot and chip off a piece.

“Those things move like actual cats,” Lance murmured, resting his arm on Pidge’s head as he leaned over him to watch more closely, “and they look like they have some impressive firepower.”

“How much intel did we get on the designs?” Pidge glanced over at Slav.

“Not much I’m afraid,” Slav shrugged with one set of shoulders, “we know the composition of the material they were made of is identical to the comet.”

“And the comet came from the other reality,” Hunk supplied.

“That’s probably for the best…” Keith started.

“They make a giant man,” Sven sounded slightly sullen at having been ignored in favor of the warships.

“What?” everyone turned to look at him.

“The kitty cat warships come together to form giant robot man,” Sven said happily, “with sword.”

Pidge blinked, then began scrolling furiously through the images until he came to a blurred image of what did indeed appear to be a giant robot wielding a sword.

“Okay, that’s pretty cool,” Lance admitted.

“Slav said we couldn’t have one,” Sven pouted.

“No comet means no giant kitty cat warships,” Hunk patted his leg, “sorry man.”

“The comet came from their reality?” Lance frowned at the blurred image of a sword barely caught in frame.

“Yeah, and there must have been more for them to make their ships from,” Pidge straightened his glasses.

“Well, if there are all these parallels between that reality and ours,” Lance gestured to the younger versions of themselves, “why wouldn’t there be a comet here somewhere?”

There was a long pause, then Pidge jumped off the bed, leaving Hunk to scramble to catch the table as he hurried over to lean on Slav’s shoulder.

“You have all the readings from it, don’t you?” Pidge pushed into his space, shoving one of his hands out of the way so he could type.

“Yes, yes,” Slav pushed back half-heartedly, “I suppose there is a possibility that there’s another comet here, although it seems strange that the Alteans haven’t found it yet.”

“How possible?” Keith narrowed his eyes.

Slav stopped typing, head cocked to the side and finger tapping against his chin as he did the calculations.

“Roughly 63.8%,” he decided, “although that’s very rough. There are a great many factors we don’t know yet.”

“We’ve worked with worse odds than that,” Lance shrugged.

“It could be worth looking into, don’t you think Chief?” Hunk gave him his best puppy dog eyes.

“It couldn’t hurt,” Keith shrugged, “it looks like these things could give us a significant advantage against the Alteans.”

“I want the blue one!” Sven chimed in.

“Don’t get shot again, and we’ll talk about it,” Keith patted his leg.

“You first,” Sven grumbled.

Slav looked up from his screens, eyeing the five of them dubiously, “if that’s your criteria, there is a 94.3% chance that none of you are getting one.”

Keith shrugged, “we can work with those odds too.”


End file.
